


Carnival Mishaps

by Skiaeral



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Brooms, Broomstick Dueling, Broomsticks, County Fair and all the fun stuff that comes with that, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders Being Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Doppelganger mention, Gen, Haemolacria mention, Human AU, M/M, No none of my characters will ever not meet in a romcom fashion sue me, Non-serious dueling, Nosebleeds, Other, Remus being Remus, Swearing, The Morningstar, Unintentional Injury, Yes the Morningstar gets its own tag, county fair, weapons mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:27:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26592910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skiaeral/pseuds/Skiaeral
Summary: After a few seconds, when everyone had finally passed them, Virgil sat up and brushed himself off.And immediately paled when he realized two things:The man he was looking at was not Roman. And he currently had blood all over his face.Virgil accidentally follows the wrong person. Or did he?
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Creativitwins - Relationship, Platonic/Pre-Romantic Intruxiety
Comments: 14
Kudos: 38





	1. Doppelgangers and Falls

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! Sorry, it's been a while. First year of high school (online, no less) slammed into me like God Themself dropped a brick from Heaven, so I haven't had too much time to write.  
> This is my first Intruxiety fic, which is weird because Intruxiety usually isn't my cup of tea. However, one of my friends requested it, and I do know what it feels like to have a really niche ship, so I decided I might as well. You shippers have fun.  
> This is also broken up into a few chapters, because it felt like it was getting long and I really didn't want to hold off on posting. Fret not, I'll try to get the other chapters out and written as soon as I can.  
> Now, without further ado, enjoy!

Virgil was going to  _ murder Roman _ the minute he laid eyes on him again.

He hadn’t wanted to come to the shitty county fair in the first place- it was loud, and crowded, and chaotic, and  _ loud.  _

But Roman, for whatever reason, had made it his personal life’s mission to convince Virgil to come with him, in the name of ‘getting out of your room for once’ and ‘having fun, Dark and Stormy!’, and Virgil had agreed. Reluctantly, but he’d agreed, which in hindsight was rapidly turning out to be a mistake. 

Everything had actually gone decently for half an hour- they’d avoided the crowds, as much as one could, milling around through the 4-H centers idly. 

And then Roman had gotten distracted by a flashing sign- it really was as easy as that, wasn’t it?- and walked too far ahead, and by the time Virgil had actually noticed, it had been too late to attempt to find him in the swarms of people. 

So now Virgil was by the Ferris wheel, pacing around and checking his phone every five seconds- Roman had yet to respond to any of the texts he’d sent, and it would be nigh impossible to hear a ringtone, let alone talk to each other if he called.

Looking up from his phone for what had to be the hundredth time, Virgil spotted the back of a familiar head walking in the crowd across from the Ferris wheel, and sighed in relief.

“Ro! You absolute asshole, did you really have to run off without me!?” he shouted at his friend, marching over. Roman didn’t respond in the least, continuing on and Virgil rolled his eyes. “Roman!” 

Still no response. Muttering under his breath, Virgil made his way through the throng and pulled hard at Roman’s jacket sleeve, trying to get his attention. 

Unfortunately, the universe decided this would be an excellent time to fuck Virgil over, so as Virgil grabbed him, Roman tripped, falling forward and faceplanting hard. As he fell, he dragged Virgil down with him, landing them both on the ground.

The crowd they’d been walking in only partially parted around them both, people walking on any available inch of ground, so Virgil couldn’t even see the man beside him as people swarmed between the two of them. God, crowds sucked. 

After a few seconds, when everyone had finally passed them, Virgil sat up and brushed himself off. “Jesus, you know I fucking hate these things, why do-” he started, glancing over at Roman.

And immediately paled when he realized two things:

The man he was looking at was  _ not Roman _ . And he currently had blood all over his face. 

For a few seconds, Virgil completely stalled, looking at Not-Roman next to him, who was currently both giving him an extremely confused look and pinching his nose, which had blood dripping from it.

And then his brain restarted and immediately began blaring alert messages, loudly.

“Holy, holy shit, I am so sorry, Jesus I thought you were someone else you look almost exactly like him and I didn’t mean to pull you down- I’m sorry, God, is your nose okay should I call someone, again I am so so sorry, fuck, uh, I have some tissues- can you breathe through it I didn’t know that would happen-” 

Not-Roman cocked his head to the side, almost like a dog, studied Virgil for a few seconds and immediately burst out laughing. Virgil stared at him wide-eyed.

“A-are you okay?” he asked, because either Not-Roman (with a mustache, Virgil noted) was either completely insane or had hit his head and had a major concussion on top of the nosebleed.

“Peachy!” Not-Roman-With-A-Mustache-And-Possible-Concussion said. “I mean, other than the blood on my shirt, which in all honesty is just making me look like someone stabbed me through the collarbone, which is a plus. Give people something to look at, doesn’t it?”

Quickly, Virgil checked to make sure he didn’t _actually_ have anything stabbed in him. With the way this guy was acting, he wouldn’t have been surprised. However, aside from the blood on his shirt (wait, he had a nosebleed, what kind of angle had his head even been at?), there didn’t appear to be anything else wrong.

“You-uh, you should probably, I mean, there’s, tables- over there,” Virgil managed, and immediately kicked himself for that absolute  _ trainwreck _ of a sentence. Thankfully, though, Not-Roman-With-Mustache-And-Probable-Concussion didn’t comment, making his way over to the tent with tables beneath it, Virgil trailing behind him the entire way.

Thankfully, the universe decided it was done dicking around with him for today, so the tent was nearly empty. There were only a few stragglers on the edges still seated (and giving the two of them odd looks, which Virgil was fervently trying to ignore).

Not-Roman sat down at one of the tables, and Virgil slid in on his opposite side, grabbing napkins out of the plastic dispenser and handing them to him. 

“Again, I am so sorry-” he started, but the man cut in.

“Hey, I heard you the first twenty times,” he said, laughing a little bit. “Besides, I already said I don’t mind, blood’s a good look!” 

“Or a good decoration for Halloween,” Virgil said, trying and failing to not make it sound awkward. He fully expected Not-Roman-With-A-Mustache-And-Concussion to go silent or ask him what the hell he decorated with (fake blood, thank you very much, he wasn’t insane), but instead, the man just laughed again, holding napkins to his nose. 

And Virgil got a feeling that maybe, just maybe, the day wasn’t entirely a bust.

  


Half an hour later, Virgil and Remus (that turned out to be Not-Roman’s name, oddly close to Actual-Roman’s name, and he knew it reminded him of something, but he’d be damned if he could remember it) were still sitting at the table. Virgil had insisted on buying food because he still felt insanely guilty about The Nose-Obliteration Incident (as he had privately named it) and besides, food was supposed to help with blood loss, right?

Thankfully, Remus didn’t protest about him paying, in favor of shoving the (admittedly overboard amount) of food into his mouth a mile a minute  _ while _ talking at the same speed, about what appeared to be just about any thought that crossed his mind, most of them more than a tad disturbing. Virgil had initially been a little weirded out, but now it was just downright impressive. 

Then again, what about Remus  _ hadn’t  _ been strange from the get-go? 

“So, prior to smashing my nose- well, not really smashing, you need a pretty strong force to actually rip through all the cartilage and bend it one way or the other, especially if it can actually be bashed into my face- but, points aside, you were calling me...Roland? Rocky? Ro-something?”

“Roman,” Virgil corrected. Remus had also kept bringing up his injury, especially describing it in detail, but it didn’t feel like he was doing it to try to guilt Virgil or get anything out of it. It almost felt like Remus was pleased with it, the way someone else might have been pleased about a medal or a pair of new shoes. It was strange, but somehow Virgil wasn’t surprised. “And yeah, actually, it was kinda bizarre, because from the back and side you looked  _ exactly _ like him. Nix the mustache, you two could be carbon copies.”

“Oooh,” Remus giggled, “a doppleganger! That’ll be fun, I wonder if he’s the one who comes through a mirror and bludgeons me to death in my sleep, or is that me? Sounds like me, at least the whole ‘through the mirror in your sleep bit’! Would his teeth go out through the back of his head if I smashed a baseball bat hard enough?” 

Virgil winced, because that was a  _ vivid _ mental image, and it didn’t help that he had Roman’s face to picture instead of the usual cookie-cutter person. 

Remus looked at him with an expression he couldn’t quite define, narrowing his eyes for a few milliseconds, before contentedly shoving half a hot dog down his throat and swallowing whole. Ah. Virgil had somehow managed to forget about that in the five seconds he’d been distracted. 

A loud chime started playing suddenly from his pocket, and Virgil winced again at the noise, pulling out his phone. It was a message from Roman (of course it was). 

  


_ Where are you, Panic at The Everywhere? I’ve been looking for you for ages! _

  


Virgil rolled his eyes irritably. 

  


_ wow, you finally realize you can text or something princey? _

  


_ In my defense, my phone was on silent and I was nearly certain you were nearby! I didn’t want to resort to texting and calling if you had ended up being right next to me when it came through! _

_ In any case, the question still stands, where are you hiding? _

  


_ not hiding, ro. i’m at the picnic tent right by the ferris wheel.  _

_ and fair warning, someone’s here with me _

  


_ Oh? Is he cute? _

  


_ oh my god _

  


_ What? It is a perfectly reasonable question! _

  


_ he looks like you  _

  


_ What? _

  


Virgil pulled up his camera and quietly took a picture of the man sitting across from him, sending it off to Roman. Was it illegal to take pictures of people like that? Probably. Did he think Remus would care? No.

  


_ You were right, he does look similar and therefore, suitably handsome. Although I find the mustache a bit much.  _

_ Wait a second _

_ Is that blood on his shirt? _

  


_ uh  _

_ yeah  _

  


_ What in God’s name did you  _ do,  _ Virgil? _

  


_ it’s a long story, just get over here, would you? _

  


Slipping his phone back away, Virgil sighed. “Hey, one of my friends might be heading over here.”

“The same one who you thought I was?” Remus asked, grinning. 

“Uh, yeah.”

“Ooh, so I get to meet the doppelganger man, wonderful. Hm- which of us do you think would be able to take down the other faster?” He leaned in, eyes glittering. 

“It, uh, might depend on which method you’re using.” Virgil said, slightly concerned he was even talking about this- but then again, Remus was asking, and at the very least, it would kill time. “If he challenges you to a duel to the death or something- which is pretty par for the course, I’ll warn you- then yeah, he’d probably win.”

“What would the weapon of choice for doppelganger-man be?” 

“Oh, a double-edged sword- like Gryffindor’s sword or something. He fences, and he’s nuts about it- I’d bet he has an actual engraved sword hidden somewhere. What’s yours?”

“A morningstar! I  _ adore _ it- solid and gives enough force to break through bones, and the spikes just crush into the flesh and add puncture wounds on top of it, so you can both snap someone’s arm in two and rip holes into their muscles and veins and tissues at the same time!” Remus bounced a little on the bench, like an excited child. “10/10, best weapon.”

“Damn, when you put it like that, I’m suddenly a lot more impressed with medieval weaponry.”

“Your weapon of choice? I’m curious now, I gotta know what you use to decimate your enemies.”

“I can’t say I’ve ever really thought about it,” Virgil said thoughtfully, looking down at his hands. “But if I had to choose, I suppose I would say...butterfly knives. The dual ones from China, not the other ones. They’re easier to conceal, and are a lot more versatile than longer blades, from what I’ve seen.”

“Easier to stab someone in the back with or to split down the front and tear their lungs and spleen out, a worthy choice. So, what if it’s hand-to-hand combat?”

Virgil studied Remus for a few seconds. He was certainly not as tan as Roman was, and the long sleeves made it difficult to measure precisely, but he appeared to be nearly the same as Roman in both build and height. “Huh. I don’t know, do you practice hand-to-hand combat?”

“Yep! Jiu Jitsu and quite a few bar fights.”

“So you’d probably win. Not saying that Roman can’t pack a punch, but he tends to be better with a weapon. Refined style and all that shit.”

“Note to self,” Remus mused, “do not let doppelganger-man acquire a weapon.” 

“Don’t let who acquire a weapon?” a voice asked from somewhere behind and to the right of Virgil. Rolling his eyes, Virgil reached out blindly and grabbed Roman by the shoulder. 

“You, you ass. Remus, meet Roman.” 


	2. Duels and Broomsticks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil is going to have an aneurism if this guy and his best friend keep it up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, again! Look at that, I don't update for two months and then I roll out a new chapter and a oneshot in one day ;/. This might be a series I end up continuing after the original fic, cause I have a ton of ideas for this one, involving Roman and Remus specifically. Perhaps a few others as well? Who knows? Not me!  
> Anyway, I'll let you get on with it, and I'll see you at the end!

“Oh, hello there!” Roman stuck out his hand and gave Remus one of his charming “meeting-new-people” smiles. “Roman Knightley.”

Remus stared back at him, before slowly grinning and taking his hand. “It was nice to meet you, Roman Knightley!” Roman blinked. “So, when does the duel start?”

Virgil froze- holy shit, was he serious? No, he had to be joking, right, who the hell would actually challenge someone to a duel like that? 

“Pardon?”

“It’s up to you, by all means, but I do like a fight!” Remus laughed. “I’ll even let you choose the terms, if you’d like.”

Roman blinked, confused, for a beat, and then glanced at Virgil, who immediately froze. He knew that look, it was Roman’s About-To-Do-Something-Incredibly-Stupid-For-Fun look, and holy crap, they were gonna fight in the middle of a county fair. 

“No, no, that’s really, not necessary at all, guys, let’s not-”

“Why of course!” Roman stood suddenly from the table. “Virgil, would you be a witness? I’m afraid we wouldn’t be able to find seconds for both of us on such a short time frame.” 

“Uh-”

“Wonderful!” Roman grabbed Virgil’s arm, pulling him out of his seat, and Virgil took his chance to try and head at least one of them off.

“Roman, seriously, this is a bad idea, don’t cause a scene at the fair!” he hissed.

“Nonsense, we won’t hurt anyone but each other!”

“Roman that does not make it bett-” 

“Excuse me, miss,” Roman said charmingly, walking over to the food stand and gesturing to the woman working the stand, “Could I borrow your brooms for a moment?”

“What?”

“The brooms, the ones behind you,” he said, gesturing. “I give my word I’ll bring them back.”

“I...gue-”

“Brilliant, thank you,” Roman said quickly, reaching over and grabbing the brooms from behind the counter. He turned and shouted over his shoulder at Remus, running back towards him. “Knave, your day of reckoning has arrived!”

Remus cackled- literally cackled, what the fuck- and shouted back. “Not mine, sir, but yours!” By now, the few people in the food tent were watching curiously.

Roman threw Remus one of the brooms and moved in on him. “En garde!” Remus quickly blocked the blow with his own broom, retaliating with one of his own. Virgil was still frozen, watching the two of them fight. 

“Take that!” Remus declared, making a blow towards Roman’s neck. Virgil flinched reflexively as Roman dodged, somehow bringing his “blade” up just in time to catch the other’s.

“Not so easily, you brute!” By now, people from both the street and the tent had started to gather closer towards the fight, some recording with their phones. 

Roman pulled back and aimed a sweeping blow across Remus’s stomach, which he barely missed, jumping up on the table to avoid it. Roman, still hellbent on advancing, hopped up onto the table as well, still trading blows. 

Virgil wasn’t sure when he started losing track of the outside world, exactly, but as the ‘duel’ continued, he couldn’t help but watch as the rhythm of the fight continued- slash, dodge, strike-block, jump and duck, slash again, and so on. Especially Remus- the way he fought was sort of a brute gracefulness- no dancing around like Roman, every blow with as much force as possible behind it, but still a sight. Given the obvious bluntness and...well, pretty much everything he’d seen from Remus thus far, Virgil wasn’t all that surprised. 

As he watched, Remus caught his eye and winked. Virgil felt himself flush- what the hell was that supposed to mean? And why did he- no, that was most definitely going in the category of things to not think about currently. Especially the blushing.

Roman went in for a risky blow across Remus’s chest, and Remus dodged, quickly moving to the side, which made Virgil tense- it was a picnic table, for Chrissakes, there wasn’t much room and he was already injured- and disarming Roman. 

In the next second, Remus kicked Roman’s legs out from under him, forcing him to drop to his knees, and pointed his sword at his throat. 

“Checkmate.” 

Both Remus and Roman looked expectantly at Virgil, who abruptly realized that he was here to be a judge as well. “Uh,” he said, coughing awkwardly, “Uh, R-Remus wins, I think.” 

The two looked at each other, and Remus extended a hand, pulling his opponent up. Roman, for his part, looked out to the sizeable crowd. “Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, that’s all for right now.” Smiling at the onlookers, he hopped down from the picnic table, picking up the two brooms as he went, and disappeared into the crowd. In the crowd, Virgil could hear snippets of conversation, mostly comments about the ‘wonderful show’ and asking how they hadn’t ‘seen them before’. Shit, people thought that had been planned, that was going to make for some awkward conversations. Still, whatever made sure they didn’t get thrown out of the fair, he supposed. 

“You weren’t kidding when you said doppelganger-man was good with a sword, were ya?” Remus said, suddenly close to his ear. Virgil startled, whipping around. 

“Warn a dude next time!” 

Remus laughed in response. “Most fun I’ve had in months, if I’m being honest.” 

“The duel?”

“Oh, yeah, the duel. If we’d been fighting with real swords I would be bleeding from here, and here,” Remus points to various places on his torso, “And my eye would be scratched, maybe even burst a blood vessel. Oh, speaking of which, did you know that there’s an actual medical term for people who can cry blood? It’s haemolacria, that would be so cool to have!”

“Would be awesome for freaking people out,” Virgil agrees, settling back against the picnic table and quietly absorbing what Remus is saying, humming in acknowledgment. It’s an odd feeling, to not have to constantly try and respond to everything, to just listen and nod along and laugh when he wants to laugh as Remus fills the silence between the two of them.

Virgil thinks he could get used to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who didn't go through an obsessive Hamilton phase in middle school, seconds are people chosen by the duelers (one each) to act as both diplomats/negotiators to the other second, on behalf of their duelers, and to sort of serve as "witnesses" for the duelers (dueling was illegal in most places, so there were no official witnesses). Granted, the duel that takes place here is by combat/sword-broomfighting, which is obviously much earlier than the colonial period where the concept of seconds was introduced (I don't think there were seconds in swordfights), but Roman is also a theater nerd and would probably make the same mistake I did while I wrote this (yes, I just realized the inconsistency as I am typing these notes.)   
> Also, haemolacria is a real thing and I find it incredibly cool. Will refrain from infodumping here. Go Google it if you're interested.   
> As always, comments or kudos are much appreciated! Seriously, I couldn't care less if it's an essay pointing out the mistakes I've made or just a keysmash of delight, all of them make my day!  
> Until we meet again!

**Author's Note:**

> :) Thank you for reading! As I said before, another chapter should be coming out soon. Let me know if you see any typos or errors anywhere, it would really help! Any feedback is greatly appreciated!  
> A word of wisdom: you never realize how hard it is to find out what exactly more medieval/pre-rifle weapons do to the human body until you're desperately Googling 'what happens if you slam a morningstar into someone's torso' at 3 am.  
> 


End file.
